The Human Adventure 1: Man's Greatest Journey
by Tim Burns
Summary: The beginning of a weekly series which will, gradually over time, show the entire career of an average Starfleet officer. A lower decks story, but NOT a Mary Sue. Attempts to show the more human side of Star Trek over big scifialien stories.
1. Chapter 1

**STAR TREK**

**THE HUMAN ADVENTURE #1**

"**Man's Greatest Journey…"**

Relative Date: Between **Catspaw **and **Metamorphosis **(2267). _This placement is only for people like me who need to know exactly where any story happens on the timeline; neither of those episodes have any particular relevance to this story._

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_Author's Note: For those of you who have read countless Star Trek fanfiction stories and encountered far too many "Mary Sue" type stories, I want to take this opportunity to assure you that this story is not of that type. It is a "lower decks" type story (that is, it is told from the point of view of a crewman that is not one of the main bridge officers), and the POV character does bear some similarities to the author, but this character does not save the day on a regular basis, and is, in fact, quite average in every way (which is, essentially, the point of this series of stories—to chronicle the life and times of a member of Starfleet that is not one of the "select few," as it were; a common man, so to speak). But, lest I spoil the story too much, I'll stop now and let you judge for yourself. _

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Ricky Bateman pulled at the neck of his bright red Starfleet uniform shirt. Though the material of the shirts had been designed for maximum comfort, the shirt didn't fit exactly right. Ricky was a fairly thin man, but it seemed that the size of shirt he had been given was made for someone just slightly thinner than he. At least he didn't have to endure the turtleneck design of a couple years ago, which was said to be uncomfortable even when it did fit correctly.

In fact, he'd never had to wear them. He had entered Starfleet Academy just as the Academy was discontinuing the gray turtlenecks as the cadet uniform, in favor of something a little more unique. But he was out of the Academy now, and he was going to be a crewman on a Starfleet space vessel.

A transporter attendant motioned Ricky forward, and he stepped on to one of the transporter pads as five other crewmen stepped onto the others. In a moment, the large starbase transporter room dissolved into a much smaller transporter room that could only belong to a Starfleet ship. As the new crewmen stepped off of the transporter pads, a man stood at the door and greeted each of them, going through a brief list of questions.

"Hi," the man said, very casually, as he shook Ricky's hand. "I'm Lieutenant Virgil Hendricks, the First Officer." Hendricks wore dusty blond hair that was a bit longer than would've been allowed before they had relaxed the regulations a few years ago. Ricky thought he heard a slight hint of an accent from the western part of North America.

"Bateman," Ricky said, after a moment's pause. "Richard M., Sir. Non-commissioned officer."

"Nice to meet you, Bateman," Hendricks replied. "Have you sent up your belongings?"

"Yes, Sir. Beamed up in the first cargo transport."

"Good," Hendricks said, marking off a box on his electronic clipboard. "They'll be in your quarters, room 2-C. Your roommate's name is Lee Komura; he's already arrived." Hendricks paused, sweeping his hair back with his hand. "The ship's still undergoing some final maintenance; we wanted to get everybody up here so that they could get unpacked and take a look around the ship. Just try to steer clear of areas where people are working and you should be fine. Oh, and we're having a little meet-and-greet tomorrow morning and 0830, before we ship out. It'll be back on the Starbase to give the maintenance crews time to finish up, so you can wear casual civilian dress."

"Thank you, Sir," Ricky said, and Hendricks stepped slightly to the side, indicating that he was done with Bateman.

Ricky exited the transporter room and entered a curved corridor, something of a trademark in Starfleet ship design. He had toured a Surya-class once while at the Academy, and one of the Republic-class museum ships. Those ships were much bigger than this one, a small Dover-class patrol ship, but the design principles remained the same, for the most part.

The Dover class of ships was Starfleet's solution to the problem of patrolling and policing large areas of space in the interior of Federation territory. This inner area was calm, for the most part, but still required routine patrols and minor interventions by Starfleet. Almost fifty years ago, the Starfleet Chief of Operations had determined that this space was far too safe to expend even a small scout ship in patrolling it, so he commissioned a vastly smaller ship design, with minimal armaments and crew, to be mass-produced for the steady patrol of the inner-space territory.

The U.S.S. _Dover _was the result of that, and the Dover-class had been enough of a success that the ships of the class had been steadily refitted through the years, always staying a step or two behind the power curve, but close enough that they, and their crews, could continue to perform their duties adequately.

Of course, Ricky Bateman didn't care about any of that. Nor did he care that the ship he was on, the U.S.S. _Capistrano_, was one ship among a large number of Dover-class ships, or that there were three other ships of the kind patrolling the same sector as the _Capistrano_. That didn't matter because this ship, this ignominious assembly-line job, was going to be Ricky's home for the foreseeable future.

It wasn't that Ricky had a bad childhood, or that he disliked his family. That wasn't the case at all. He loved his family, and remembered his childhood fondly. But now, as an adult, the _man_ named Ricky Bateman had never truly found his identity. He had never figured out where he wanted to go in life; now, as a crewman another Starfleet ship _Capistrano_, Ricky had a place that was not his family's, but his. A home; a life. Somehow, even a small ship as this seemed to Ricky like the real beginning of his journey as a man.


	2. Chapter 2

Ricky, having exchanged his uniform for a square-necked t-shirt and comfortable pants, walked into the conference room and decided that about half of the ship's crew complement of 22 people was there already. On the right side of the room, four people were standing shoulder to shoulder, in what appeared to be a greeting line. Ricky walked to the first man in the line, a man in his thirties with a trim moustache.

"Welcome," the man said, and Ricky immediately noticed a Spanish accent. "I'm Commander Alex Flores, Captain of the U.S.S. _Capistrano_."

"Crewman Richard Bateman, Sir. Security," Ricky added, as the Captain shook his hand. Commander Flores quickly introduced Ricky to the other three people in the receiving line. Lieutenant Virgil Hendricks was the First Officer who Ricky had already met. Beside him was the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Adelle Bick, a kindly-looking black woman with curly graying hair. Having just celebrated her twenty-fifth year in Starfleet, she was the most experienced member of the ship's crew. The final senior officer was Lt. Harry Colman, an older man with unkempt white hair and an air of fractured brilliance about him. He was the ship's Chief Engineer; he had entered Starfleet at the age of forty-three, when his private ship-repair business had gone under. It seemed, the Captain explained, that he had undergone a sort of midlife crisis in reverse; he had decided he needed _more_ structure in his life, and that's how he came to join.

Having met all of the ship's senior officers, Ricky turned away from the receiving line and toward the refreshment table. That was when he saw her, standing by the punch bowl, and he thought it impossible that he hadn't noticed her the second he had walked through the door. The young lady in question was wearing a little white dress, with a lace pattern that brought to mind those frilly wedding dresses that women so seldom wore in the 23rd century. With everyone else in the room wearing casual clothes, she would've hardly been more noticeable if a beam of light was shining down on her.

Before Ricky could fully realize it, he was moving toward her. He was typically a very shy person, and didn't usually approach strangers, especially attractive ones. And yet, here he was, trying to nonchalantly pour himself a cup of the bright blue punch as he tried to think of something to say.

"Hi," he said finally, though it wasn't the most brilliant opening line.

"Hi," she replied, smiling politely if not sincerely, and Ricky realized that his nervousness must have been evident on his face. He struggled for something else to say.

"That's a ni—" he said, beginning to comment on her dress, but then realized that would most likely be the worst thing to say; certainly she had heard it too many times already. Stuttering for a moment, hoping she wouldn't notice, his mind seized on a more typical introductory question. "What division are you in?"

"Communications. Except in this ship, the science officer handles comm. traffic, so I guess I'll be getting the advanced course in scanners and tricorders."

"That's interesting," Ricky said, trying to casually sip his punch. "Why'd they assign to this ship, then?"

The young woman made a wry facial expression that indicated she had been asking herself the same question. "I really don't know. But, I guess I'll have to make the best of it."

"Yeah," Ricky said, hoping he had made up for his near-fumble. "I'm sure you'll do fine. What shift are you?"

"Beta. You?"

"Beta!" Ricky said, smiling a little too widely. "I mean, hey, always nice to know somebody on the bridge, right?"

"Sure," she said.

Just then, a young man came toward them on the other side of the table. He was a handsome Asian, and seemed to be full of energy. "Man!" He said, to the young woman. "That's quite a dress!" The girl turned toward Ricky, and sarcastically smiled in way that indicated he was correct in his assumption that she had already experienced this _ad_ _nauseum_. Something about the looked struck a chord with his own feeling of nervous discomfort, and for a moment, he felt like he had made a connection.

"I missed the part about casual dress," the young woman patiently explained.

"Well, you look great," the young man said, and then turned to Ricky. "You're Bateman, right? The First Officer pointed you out to me; we're gonna be roommates. My name's Lee Komura."

"Ricky Bateman."

"You security?" Komura asked.

"Yeah."

"Same here. I got Alpha shift, but I've been told Security doesn't have much to do most of the time. I'll probably end up helping around Engineering a lot. Have you cross-trained at all?"

"Only the basic electives," Ricky answered, as he chewed on an orange dessert cube. "I'm still not sure what department I really want to be in."

"Well, I don't think this is quite the place to learn," Lee said, leaning forward a little. "I've heard that all the duties are so watered down on a Dover-class that a crew of first-year cadets could run them. Blindfolded."

Ricky wondered where Komura was hearing all this stuff, but decided not to ask. "Well, that's fine with me. I'd hate to press the wrong button and blow up the ship."

Lee laughed. "Oh well, we're bound to see some kind of action some time. I wonder how long it'll be."


	3. Chapter 3

The _Capistrano's _first assignment was not too long in coming, though it certainly seemed long to the two young security officers who were more impatient for action by the minute.

Ricky Bateman was fortunate enough to be standing watch on the bridge when the call came. Ensign Shelly Shepherd was at communications; she was the stunning young lady in the white dress at the party. Ricky had realized too late that he had not discovered her name; by the time he was able to excuse himself from Lee Komura, Shelly had excused herself from the entire party. He had only managed to talk to her briefly after that, but long enough to formally introduce himself, and find out her name in return.

At the time that Shelly had received the message, neither the Captain nor First Officer were on the bridge. At such times, a security officer wasn't required to stand watch, but Ricky found bridge operations interesting, even when nobody was around. When Ricky heard Shelly call for a commanding officer, he couldn't help smiling, if only for a moment. Finally, they would be seeing action...of some kind.

Lieutenant Hendricks made it to the bridge before the Captain, and asked Shelly to relay the message.

"It was a priority 3-B message from Starfleet Command, Sir," Shelly explained. "The main colony village on planet Iota Carinae II is suffering from civil unrest, and riots have broken out. Command has asked us and the U.S.S. _Jakarta_ to go there and send teams down to help protect the townspeople."

Commander Flores had made it to the bridge by then, and had heard enough of the message. "Helm," he said, "how far to the Iota Carinae system?"

The Helmsman (who, on a Dover-class, operates both helm and navigation) was a Welshwoman with long black hair, named Sophie Hughes. She turned after a brief moment of consideration. "About an hour and a half at warp four," she answered.

"Let's get going," the Captain said. "An hour and a half can be a long time in this type of situation. Virgil, let's decide who'll be on the landing party."


	4. Chapter 4

"We are now in orbit above Iota Carinae II," Hughes reported.

"Ensign Shepherd," the First Officer said, "Can you establish communication with the colony's administrator?"

"Hailing them, Sir," she said, and then paused a moment, waiting for the reply. She nodded when it came, and Hendricks told her to put it onscreen. The face on the other end looked exhausted.

"This is the Federation space vessel _Capistrano_," Hendricks said. "We received your call for assistance."

"I'm Governor Cronyn," the man said. "We're glad you could make it. We've been able to stop much of the rioting on our own, but it's disparate, popping up in different locations without warning. We would greatly appreciate any help you can offer."

"Of course, Governor," Hendricks replied. "Commander Flores, the Captain of this vessel, is already waiting in the transporter room with a security team. I'll also be leading a team to aid in the relief effort. Just send us the coordinates where we should get started, and we'll be down shortly."

The colony Governor gestured to one of his aides, and then turned to the screen again. "Coordinates are being sent. Again, from the entire colony, our thanks," Cronyn concluded, and then signed off.

"Hughes, you've got the bridge," Hendricks said, heading for the turbolift. "Shepherd, tell Chiske, Williams, and Gross to meet me in the transporter room." Just before he walked into the turbolift, Hendricks turned back to Hughes, and smiled. "Don't you dare blow up the ship while we're away." Hughes saluted sarcastically as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Ricky beamed down in a party of four. Besides the Captain and himself, the team included Nita Kraph, the Gamma-shift security officer, who was a Centaurian, and another crewman named Weston. The site were they appeared seemed to be one of the focal sections of the colony's main city, but was now fairly empty, and with good reason. The riots on this colony, doubtless the result of discord sown against a perceived failure in the colony's government, had been fairly minor compared to some. But it was still enough to send people to the relative safety of their homes. Ricky could tell from the patterns of strewn detritus and damage that this spot had been the site of some activity, but he couldn't see anybody around here now.

"There!" Kraph said, pointing to their left. "Looks like about ten people."

"Come on," the Captain said, "But don't draw your weapons unless I give the order."

The group moved forward, quickly but cautiously approaching the relatively small mob. When they were within fifteen feet, one of the people near the front of the mob old-style laser weapon and fired it at the Starfleet officers. But the very mob itself, in its frenzied state, jostled the shooter, and the beam went easily two feet over the Captain's head.

"Draw weapons," the Captain said, quietly enough that it wouldn't carry to the mob and fuel their indignant fire. In a moment, all four members of the starship crew held phasers in front of them, aimed squarely at the small group of rioters. The mob slowed, but was know within five feet of the Starfleet officers.

Ricky turned to Commander Flores, wondering what he would do. But for a moment, it seemed as if the Captain's face was frozen...in indecision, or fright? Ricky couldn't decide which, before the moment passed and the Captain raised his empty hand above his head.

"Fire on my mark," he said, looking squarely at the young man who appeared to be the leader of the mob. Ricky's finger tensed near the trigger, fully aware that he had never fired a phaser at a live target before.

Then the mob stopped, and backed up a step. Ricky located the one who had the laser pistol, but now that man seemed uninterested in firing. There could conceivably have been one more with a gun, but it was clearly visible that most of them possessed nothing more deadly than a hyper-spanner. With the phaser's wide-beam setting, a fight would be over before it began.

"Put your weapons down," the Captain instructed, and each member of the mob grudgingly complied. "Crewman Weston," he continued. "Take each of their identification. We don't have time or space to arrest them now, but we'll pass the identification on to the local authorities, to deal with in proper time." Flores looked at the people in the mob; most bitter or angry, some looking slightly remorseful. "Go back home, and don't cause any more trouble tonight."

As the mob slowly dispersed, Commander Flores opened his communicator and asked the Governor's Office for a status report about further incidents around the city. Ricky listened in one ear as he looked down at his phaser. In his childhood, he had played with toy representations of the phaser and its predecessors. Even at the Academy, in small arms training, it had seemed like something of a toy to him. In that moment, when he had raised his phaser in self-defense against the mob, it had become less of a toy. As the Captain received the status report, Ricky wondered if he would have need of his weapon before the end of this mission. He only hoped that when force was necessary, he would be able to use it with a keen eye and equally keen judgment.


	6. Chapter 6

The Starfleet squad encountered two more groups of rioters, but both encounters went in much the same way as the first one. After it was all over, and the whole crew was back on the ship, Ricky found that he had one question rolling around in his brain. Seeking out the Captain, Ricky found him in the briefing room.

"Can I help you with something?" Commander Flores asked.

"I had a question, Sir," Ricky said, standing at attention. "About that whole situation on the planet."

The Captain nodded. "Sit down, please." Ricky did so. "Now," the Captain said, "What is your question?"

"Well, uh," Ricky began, suddenly realizing he wasn't sure how to vocalize it. "I guess...what was the issue, you know, what started all the riots?"

Flores thought about it for a moment. "I don't know."

"Why didn't we find out?" Ricky asked. "Like, maybe the people who ended up rioting had a legitimate concern. Maybe the government was wrong about something. Shouldn't we have listened to them, helped them?"

The Captain nodded sympathetically, "These are the stories you hear, at the Academy and other places. People talk about a ship's Captain as if he is to be soldier, diplomat, priest, lawyer, and so forth. This is true, in some situations, more so on the frontier, where an ambassador or diplomat isn't a short trip away. But my friend," Flores said, gesturing with his index finger, "In Starfleet, in the Federation, each person has a role to play. Usually a small one. And sometimes, it doesn't feel like enough; it feels like we left a job unfinished, yes? But I, and the twenty-one other people on this ship, cannot do everything." The Captain nodded again. "There will be people who come to that planet to listen to both sides, and try to prevent this from happening again. There will be people to do what we couldn't do. Just remember that more goes on than what we see first-hand. We each play a role; everyone. In most situations, it takes more than one person to 'change the course of mighty rivers.' I, for myself, know that I would not like to have that much responsibility on my shoulders. But that doesn't mean that we didn't make a contribution. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Ricky said, standing. After he made sure that the Captain was done with him, he turned and left.


	7. Chapter 7

"So you really went on our first planetary mission and left your ol' roommate snoring in my bunk?" Lee Komura asked, as he and Ricky ate dinner the next day.

"Hey, I don't make the duty rosters," Ricky said. "There wasn't really much to it, anyway. We just broke up a couple riots, and stuff. No big phaser battles or anything."

"Were there any aliens?" Lee asked, grinning widely.

"Lee, it was a colony planet! The colonists all come from Federation member worlds."

"Oh well," Lee said, sipping his drink. "Maybe next time, huh? I mean, we're security officers. It'd be a shame if we can't secure something eventually." Lee looked up, almost wistfully. "How much would that ache if we cruised around the sector for a year, or even two, and nothing ever happened?"

"Stuff'll happen," Ricky replied slowly, "But I think what I learned on the planet there was that, even if stuff does happen, it's probably not gonna be what you thought it would be. I mean, sure, I was in fear for my life for a second or two, but it wasn't really...exciting. It's not like I was some action hero, it was _a job_. This is what we do for a living, and I'm sure it'll have its moments, but at the end of the day, our lives are just never gonna be the same as people like Garth, or Decker, or Rice. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can start enjoying the journey that we're on."

"Hey, I'll drink to that," Lee said, raising his glass. "But you gotta promise me you won't make a habit of speeches like that. Nobody told me I'd be having a fortune cookie for a roommate."

THE END


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